


Lothering, Schmothering

by tklivory



Series: The Further Adventures of Dailana Cousland [3]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Drama, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-11
Updated: 2012-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-29 08:45:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tklivory/pseuds/tklivory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this installment, Dailana somehow manages to show the refugees in Lothering that, in fact, things can get worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lothering, Schmothering

Morrigan sent a dubious glance towards the woman striding in front of the party. _How on Thedas did I come to be in this..._ company _? A fool, a dog, and..._ She paused, uncertain _precisely_ how to describe the blond woman walking in front of her on the highway, humming off-key and swiping the tops off of cattails with a stick the dog had brought her. Once in a while, she'd hold up her hand and look intently at her fingernails, then shrug and go back to humming. _At least she isn't_ talking _,_ Morrigan thought with approval. _I_ much _prefer her humming to her -_ she shuddered, _\- her_ elocution _._

The fool seemed to enjoy watching her, of course, but then, he _was_ a fool, and as easily entranced as all men by the swaying of hips and hair. Although even Morrigan had to reluctantly admit that he gritted his teeth a fair amount when Dailana started talking about _shoes_ and _dresses_ and _bumping uglies_.

And they hadn't even reached Lothering yet. _'Tis a pity I do not believe in their so-called Maker,_ she mused. _At least_ then _I would have someone to pray to for merciful death. Mother must truly hate me, to make me accompany these people._

Movement on the highway ahead, on the final section leading into Lothering proper, caught her attention. She sighed in resignation. _Of_ course _there are bandits. Anything to make this lovely little trip_ more _enjoyable._

"Wake up, gentlemen! More travellers to attend to," the man in front said with a cheerful wink. "And I'd guess the pretty one is-"

The pretty one looked at him. "Like, what _ever_. You're totally in my way, gnarly charlie."

 _Gnarly charlie? Does this woman even speak the same tongue as the rest of Fereldan?_ Morrigan thought with an almost audible snort.

The dullard to the bandit's left spoke up, looking at the armed Alistair and the staff on Morrigan's back with some apprehension. "Um, I dunno about this, boss. They don't look like them others."

 _Hmmm, perhaps_ that _one isn't_ quite _as dumb as he looks,_ Morrigan thought approvingly.

The leader's smiled widened. "Nonsense! Greetings, travellers! I-"

Dailana rolled her eyes, one finger reaching up to her hair and idly twirling a blond lock. "Like, totally tubular bonus points to gnarly charlie number two!" she said sarcastically. "Gnarly charlie number one, you, like, _really_ don't want to mess with me. I'm in, like, a totally bogus mood right now."

The bandit blinked, slightly nonplussed. "Ah, yes, well, the, uh, toll applies to everyone!" he struggled gamefully on. "Ten silvers, please."

Dailana's eyes suddenly got intent, filling with something akin to thought but more... _chilling_. "Did, like, an awesomely hot bodacious Cousland man pass this way? Cause, I'd think about, like, _not_ robbing you if you, like, could tell me which way he went."

An uncertain chuckle ran through the bandits. The thought of _"She certainly doesn't_ look _threatening"_ was evident in their expressions, but that little bit of uncertainty remained. "Now, now, no need to get unpleasant. I-"

Rolling her eyes, Dailana reached back and whipped out her blades, holding one under the bandit leader's chin and one behind his neck in an unbreakable vise. _"Have you, like, seen an awesomely bodacious hot Cousland man pass this way?"_ she repeated again.

The bandits froze. Morrigan sympathized. It was like being attacked by a kitten with a crossbow - completely unexpected, and invoking no certain response. The man's voice box bobbed as he swallowed, a line of red appearing at his throat. "Ummm... no?"

"What _ever._ " The blades didn't waver. "Listen, gnarly charlie number one: my armor is, like, totally bogus and we totally need, like, poultices and other radically awesome healing stuff because _someone_ can't, like, heal a blister."

Morrigan bristled. "My magic is _far_ more useful than merely erasing the effects of the fool's inability to properly use that shield upon his back," she hissed.

"Hey!" Alistair complained.

Ignoring both of them, Dailana continued to slowly decrease the space between the blades she held on either side of the man's throat. "So, like, the Wardens are looking for contributions to their radically awesome cause. Care to, y'know, make a totally voluntary donation?"

A shiver ran through the dullard to the leader's side. "Did she say she's a Grey Warden? Them ones killed the king!"

"What!" The explosion came from Alistair, and for once Morrigan agreed with him. _He may be foolish, but he certainly did not commit regicide. 'Twould take far more intelligence than he possesses to do so._

"Ow!" the bandit leader said as Dailana's arm muscles tightened involuntarily at the words. "Ah, please be quiet, Hanric, there's a good chap. Can't you see you're upsetting the pretty la- Ow!"

Her cerulean eyes had flattened into pure venom. "Umm, did I forget to mention, like, my own totally radical motto? _Dumb but deadly_." She looked at Hanric. "This would, like, be an _awesome_ opportunity to, y'know, calm me down with a gnarly gift of gold. Diamonds are, like, a girl's best friend, right?" Blood spilled out from under her blades, a thin but steady trickle.

"Do as she says!" the man squeaked.

The bandits hastily dug into their pockets, removing all manner of silver, rings, and anything else they could find, holding them out in their hands.

Morrigan nodded approvingly as she stepped forward and took the proffered items. "An excellent decision, to be sure. Perhaps you will be allowed to see your families in the future, after all." Pocketing the items, she noticed that the filthy Mabari hound was sniffing at a dead body nearby, attracting Alistair's attention.

"What did you find, boy?" he said, taking a glittering object from the dog's mouth. Frowning, he looked more closely at the body. "This is a Templar!" He looked at the bandits accusingly. "Did you kill this man?"

The sudden additional perspiration on the man's forehead was sufficient answer.

Morrigan snorted. "One more dead Templar. _What_ a shame."

"Oh, thank you for your _charming_ opinion, it is _so_ appreciated," Alistair drawled, his sarcasm biting.

"Uh, look, we have several chests filled with items! Please, feel free to help yourselves!" the man said desperately, as the blood began to saturate the collar of his gambeson. "Really! We don't need any of it!"

The blades were placed back in their sheath, and Dailana turned and whistled to Dog. "Bee tee _em,_ what _ever_. Thanks for the awesome assistance, gnarly charlie number one."

Fingering the bloody line on his throat, the bandit shakily smiled. "Ah, of course! Anything for a lovely lady such as yourself!" He gestured to the other bandits to move out of the party's way, but they had already scurried down the highway, as far away from Dailana as they could manage. "Thank you! Have a good day, now!" He then followed his fellows as they sprinted out of sight.

Morrigan sighed. _I simply do_ not _understand how she does that,_ she mused.

Dailana ignored the retreat as she casually looted the indicated chests, pocketing all the contents. Then she stood and walked to the stairs that led into the little valley in which Lothering lay, overshadowed only by the windmill. After a bewildered glance between them that had become almost habitual of late, despite their mutual antipathy, her human companions hurried their steps to catch up with her.

Obviously looking for _something_ to say, Alistair gestured towards the town. "Lothering! Pretty as a painting."

"Finally! Are there any shops here?" Dailana looked at her armor with a moue of distaste. "This is, like, totally grody to the max. Umm, I seriously need some new leather - Darkspawn blood must be, like, the _worst_ mood-killer _ever!_ " She looked at Alistair. "Unless there's another reason you, like, refused my invitation this morning, my Warden of Hotness."

Alistair flamed a brilliant red.

"What _ever_!" She shrugged, then continued down the stairs.

Morrigan looked at Alistair. "So I suppose this means she is the leader of our little group, then, fool?" she asked with an edge in her voice. "Well, that is _so_ reassuring."

Gesturing after their leader, he said in a curt tone, "You are welcome to talk to her yourself."

Walking past him with a haughty air, she replied, "Even _you_ should know that would be a fruitless endeavor. Come, fool, who knows what will happen if she is allowed to enter the town alone."

Alistair blinked as he pictured Dailana, unchaperoned, in a town full of people completely unprepared to deal with her. "Right," he mumbled, hurrying his steps.

.~^~.

They caught up to her having an argument with a Chantry priest and a merchant. The priest, an older woman, was pointing her finger at the merchant. "-profit from their misfortune!" she said indignantly. "I should have the templars give away everything in your carts!"

"You wouldn't dare!" the red-faced merchant replied. "Any of you-"

Morrigan saw the growing impatience on Dailana's face as she and Alistair drew close. "Look, I just want to shop." She rolled her eyes. "Can you, like, stop shouting so I can get some totally gnarly replacements?" She blew a lock of hair out of her face as they turned to stare at her incredulously. "What _ever_! Just, like, sell me some totally awesome stuff, okay?"

The priest huffed, pointing at the merchant. "He is charging outlandish prices-"

Dailana's expression darkened. "Not to _me_ , he won't." She looked at her fingers. "My nails need some, like, totally bitchin' re-doing, and I, like, need supplies _now._ So let me just _buy_ _stuff_ , you know?"

The merchant's eyes suddenly got canny, sensing an opportunity. "Well, I have limited supplies. The-" He stopped as a knife was suddenly under his throat. _Everyone_ stopped and stared at Dailana.

 _A kitten with a crossbow,_ Morrigan thought to herself, amused. "I would just do as she polilely requested," Morrigan murmured. "She can be quite unpleasant when she forced to be _im_ polite."

The merchant held up his hands, blinking rapidly. Behind him the priest was trying to hide a smug expression, and the two peasants unsuccessfully concealed grins behind their hands. Dailana blew a lock away from her face, glaring at them with an intense gaze. "Like, _duh_ , I'm not doing this for _you_. I don't care, like, how much he charges _you._ I just want, like, some totally awesome armor to replace the awful grodiness around my bodacious bod, ya know?"

"Most sensible," Morrigan said, surprised to find herself approving of anything Dailana said. "'Tis but survival of the fittest."

The priest huffed. "I.. Well, I never!" she said, throwing her hands up in the air, then turned and stalked into the direction of the Chantry. Alistair looked uncomfortable but remained silent.

The merchant said, tone placating, "All right, I'll give you a fair price-" He stood on his tiptoes as the dagger raised slightly. "A discount! A discount!"

The dagger withdrew. "Umm, that's fair, I _guess._ " She started twirling a lock of hair around a finger as her suddenly vapid eyes looked at the merchant. To his credit, he didn't believe _that_ either.

 

.~^~.

 

" _How_ did you get so much for so little money?" Alistair asked again incredulously, looking down at his new SIlverite heavy armor. "I think raw _leather_ cost more at Ostagar."

Dailana shrugged as they approached the inn, where the first merchant assured them food could be found and he most _definitely_ did not have _any_ further equipment they could _possibly_ want. As they approached the door, a man with a disgruntled look on his face who stood next to the entrance said, "You might not want to go in. Tavern's-" He trailed off as Dailana completely ignored him and pushed the door open.

She rather abruptly stopped when they came face-to-face with a small group of men in armor who were apparently on their way out. The brute in the lead saw Dailana, blinked, and then smiled in what he obviously thought was a menacing fashion. "Well. Look what we have here, men. I think we've just been blessed."

Dailana giggled as if her head were truly empty. Morrigan ground her teeth in frustration. _I_ wish _I could tell once and for all if she were truly clever or truly... what_ ever! She blinked as she realized what had just crossed her mind, then ground her teeth again. _Gah, and now she begins to infect_ me _with her foolishness! Madness!_

"Well," the blond Warden said at the tail-end of the man's rather predictable threat, "I suppose I could, like, take on half of you at once, but the rest will have to wait your turn." She shrugged. "Just because the Warden of Scrumptiousness over here isn't, like, _quite_ ready to take on my horizontal expertise yet, you all, like, look totally ready for the tango of temptation."

The man blinked, hesitating at this _completely_ unexpected response. Trying to rally himself, he managed a raspy, "What?"

Morrigan only saw a bunch of idiots wrapped in metal, led by a fool fully as great as the metal-encased one at her side, but Alistair groaned in recognition. "Uh-oh. Loghain's men. This can't be good."

Even as Morrigan waited for Alistair's warning to penetrate the fluff around Dailana's mind, an elegant red-haired woman in a Chantry robe stepped forward. "Surely there is no need for trouble. These are no doubt-"

But something had finally percolated into that little pink brain, and Dailana said, "What? These dandies serve, like, the Gwaren Terror?" Her eyes narrowed. "The one who, like, left all those soldiers to die?" She took an aggressive step forward, one hand reaching to a blade, the other grabbing the top of the confused soldier's hauberk. " _Including my brother?"_

Instinctively, the man sought his sword, dragging it out of his scabbard in a wild arc that brought the flat of his blade to smack against Dailana's tightly gripping fingers, causing her to yelp and withdraw her hand. Looking at it, she whispered, "You broke a nail."

Dog whimpered, lowered his head, and ran as far away as the enclosed space of the tavern allowed him, burying his face into the bags of flour piled in the kitchen.

"What has gotten into that filthy hound?" Morrigan snapped. "So this man broke your fingernail. He is being disrespectful and thoughtless to those around him, and deserves chastisement for those actions rather than the state of your beleaguered pinky!"

Dailana turned to her, and Morrigan stepped back, startled. Those eyes... they were _awake_ again. The woman turned back to the now terrified soldier. "You _broke_ my _nail!"_

The red-headed woman tried half-heartedly to interject a voice of reason as Dog's whine escalated into a low howl. "I'm sure that-"

With blinding speed the knives came out of their sheathes across her back. The soldiers only had time to put hands on hilts before the flurry of steel and cuss words hit each one of them in turn. Morrigan and Alistair, as well as the red-haired Chantry sister, took a step back from the whirlwind. Everyone else in the tavern stepped back rather more than that.

' _Tis... 'tis most unexpected,_ she mused. Up until this moment, Dailana had been an _adequate_ fighter, though she had mainly seemed to manage fights by letting the fool attract all the enemies' attention so she could slip in from behind to stab or slice. Dog, in truth, was usually more effective in the heat of battle. Whilst Morrigan had observed her in her initial trek across the Korcari Wilds, she certainly had not been very impressive: standing behind the three men, throwing an occasional weak bomb and making disgusted noises about getting _'blood all over me'_ (when she bothered to draw her weapons at all). Indeed, Dailana had spent much of her time bristling and glaring at the three men, stalking off to stand alone away from them, staring into nothing. _Useless_ had been Morrigan's first conclusion, one that hadn't changed very much during the ensuing events. Even the incidents with the bandits and the merchants had been, in the end, really nothing much more sophisticated than a temper tantrum with blades - effective, but hardly an indication of any type of _prowess_.

But _this_...

Before the first body had even hit the floor, the last enemy was killed, surprise and shock joining the pain on his face. Morrigan blinked, then narrowed her eyes and regarded the young Warden in the midst of the carnage.

She stood, surrounded by a slowly collapsing pile of bodies, copious amounts of blood on her new armor and trusty blades. Her breathing was erratic, her face blank, and her eyes... well, that hint of _something else_ was in her eyes again.

Dog hesitantly came over and snuffled at the back of her knee, a curious whine in his tone: an appeasement of her wrath, perhaps.

And, just like that, she snapped out of it, her eyes empty once again. She looked down at herself. "Eew, I've, like, got _blood_ all over me." She held out her blades to Dog, who obediently cleaned them, then held out her arms as Dog cleaned off the blood with a slobbery tongue.

 _Disgusting_ , Morrigan thought with distaste. _I pray I never have to choose between blood and dog saliva._ 'Twas easier to think of _that_ than of the glint in Dailana's eyes as she had... _slaughtered_ the gnarly charlies.

The sister stared at the carnage, her mouth opening and closing in disbelief. Finally she swallowed and turned to Dailana. "You didn't even give them a chance to surrender!"

Dailana shrugged, running her hands through her hair and grimacing. "Um, _nobody_ messes with my nails. That's, like, totally bogus and _not_ cool." She looked at her hand with the broken fingernail mournfully. "Man, _another_ hour, like, _wasted_." She looked at the sister. "So, you, um, usually try to get involve in armed combat? That seems kinda, ya know, dumb?"

Somehow Morrigan suppressed a snort of disbelief. _I do believe I just heard the pot call the kettle pitch._

The red-haired woman blinked. "I wasn't born in the Chantry," she said, the soft lilt of Orlais in her enunciation. "Many of us had... more colorful lives before-"

Waving a hand in dismissal, Dailana said, "What _ever_. Have a totally awesome bodacious time in the cloister, sister. I've got to go, like, save the world or something."

The woman held out her hands. "Wait! That's what I wanted to talk to you about!" She cleared her throat. "Let me introduce myself. My name is Leliana."

Dailana blew at the errant lock of hair that never seemed to stay in place. "Umm, yeah. Like I have a reason to care." An odd look came over her face as she looked at the woman more closely. "You have, like, totally gnarly keen hair." She bit her lip, as if forming a thought was _quite_ difficult. "Um, do you, like, think that shoes are awesomely splendiferous and radical?"

"Ummm... Yes?" was the hesitant reply, a look of utter perplexity on Leliana's face.

"Sweet!" the blue-eyed Warden said with a bright smile and empty gaze. "Finally, someone who, like, knows what is important in life! Welcome aboard, Sister Sartorial!"

 

.~^~.

 

"So, um, has she... always been like this?" Leliana asked in soft Orlesian accents.

Morrigan fought the urge to roll her eyes. _I will_ not _emulate her!_ "I barely know the Wardens. I joined their party but recently. In our short time of acquaintance, however, I would have to say... _yes_ , she has 'always been like this.'"

The subject of their discussion stood in front of a very uncomfortable Alistair, using his armor as a mirror to fix her hair and makeup after the fight inside the tavern.

The former sister pursed her lips. Another trip to the now-terrified merchant outside of the Chantry had garnered them a rather fetching set of leathers for her to wear, complete with a rakish beret that perched atop her head. A new longbow also sat across her back, its fresh paint job ( _to, like, make sure the bow matches the armor,_ duh!) glistening in the light of the sun. "She seems... well, I'm not quite sure how to put it."

The witch sighed. "Quite frankly, neither do I," she confessed. She straightened as Dailana finished her ministrations and whistled Dog to her side.

"Right, let's, like, find this Freeway-"

"Highway," Alistair muttered, still a bit disgruntled at being used as a mirror.

"Bee tee _em,_ what _ever_!" The eyes rolled yet again. "You coming or going, cuz I have, like, _things_ I want to do, ya know? Like find a place with a totally radical gnarly keen shop!" She looked mournfully at her hand. "And, like, a manucurist." She sighed, then giggled and began marching in the direction of the windmill.

As they approached the windmill, they heard a voice chanting in a low, sonorous tone. _"Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun."_ And, of course, Dailana, sharing the attention span as well as the incongruity of a kitten with a crossbow, changed her path to go investigate the source. _It is like allowing a butterfly to dictate our path,_ Morrigan thought in frustration as she turned perforce to follow.

The voice turned out to belong to a huge giant of a man in a cage, dressed in the clothes of a farmer and with deep circles under his eyes. Morrigan's eyes narrowed. Though she did not know the meaning of the words, she at least recognized the tone and intent of it. _He awaits his death._

And it was to this noble creature that Dailana strolled, head cocked to the side, eyes empty of thought. "Umm, so, like, what'd you do?" She bonked a hand on the steel enclosure. "This is, like, a totally bogus downer of a bitchin' cage."

The giant opened his eyes as she spoke. "You aren't one of my captors."

She blew at her errant lock of hair. "Well, _duh_ , Captain Obvious." She rolled her eyes. "And I, like, asked you a question, you know."

He closed his eyes again. "I will not amuse you any more than I have the other humans. Leave me in peace."

Dailana's face flattened into a blank expression. Then she shrugged and turned away. " _What_ evs."

Morrigan stiffened. _Was she truly that dense?_ "This is a proud and powerful creature, trapped-"

"Bee tee _em,_ he's _boring!"_ Daliana said dismissively with a flip of one hand. She looked rather mournfully at it and sighed. "A full hour, like, totally _wasted,_ " she mourned again, already forgetting the giant in the cage.

Alistair cleared his throat. "I think he's a qunari." He stepped over and gently took Dailana's elbow to get her attention.

She turned to him, clearly startled at the contact, then smiled, a big wide grin. "Something I can help you with, my Warden of Pulchritude?"

He blinked. "What? I just wanted to say that we should consider taking the qunari with us."

Pouting, she look up at him. "That's all? Hmph. And here I was hoping for, like, a totally radical gnarly keen moment of awesomely intense horizontal tango."

He reddened. "I just think the Wardens could use him, that's all. But you don't have to consider my opinion if you don't want to." He took his hand from her arm. "Don't worry, I'm used to it." He stalked away, shoulders tight with anger and hurt.

She stared after him for a moment, then turned and walked to the cage. Ignoring the occupant, she examined the lock quite closely for a few seconds, then reached up to her bandana and _under_ it, extracting a long, flexible piece of metal.

Morrigan blinked. _That isn't... no, it can't be. She doesn't have the patience for-_

Dailana inserted the piece of metal into the lock, humming to herself in a grating off-key fashion, but Morrigan reveled in it. _If she hums, she cannot talk,_ she reminded herself as the humming hit a particularly egregious note. _If she hums, she cannot talk._ Repeating it to herself as a mantra, she almost didn't notice when the lock _clicked_ and Dailana stepped back with a satisfied smirk on her face.

"Oh, yeah, who's the Chief Thief?" she gloated. She reached out and opened the door. "All right, that's the total story, Mountain Man." She gestured with her thumb. "Let's make like a tree."

"No," the qunari said without opening his eyes.

Dailana blinked. "I _said,_ let's make like a banana. Bee tee _em_ , are you, like, paying attention?" She kicked the door, causing it to jerk away, strike the cage, and swing back into her waiting hand with a solid _thwack_. "The door is, like, totally open!"

"No."

She made a growl in the back of her throat. The cerulean gaze filled with that _look_ , the one that always gave Morrigan fits of frustration. Dog whimpered and backed away, cringing into the dirt. Leliana also retreated slightly, uncertain of what was about to happen.

Morrigan watched the Warden woman, fascinated. _Does she truly expect_ everyone _to just do what she says?_

Eyes narrowed, Dailana hopped into the cage, leaned over and whispered into the qunari's ear, then hopped back out. "Now, Mountain Man! Time's, like, totally a-wasting!"

Rolling her eyes before she could stop herself, Morrigan said, "I hardly think he's going to-"

With a sigh, the qunari opened his eyes and heaved himself out of the cage, slamming the door behind him "So be it."

Dailana resumed her interrupted trip to the Highway, whistling off-key, the qunari and the rest trailing after her. Morrigan gaped for a few moments, then hurried to catch up. _What on_ Thedas _did she say?_ Her teeth gritted painfully tight. _And how does she_ do _that?_ Maddening!

 

.~^~.

 

They had left Lothering behind them, rescuing - completely by accident, mind - a couple of dwarves. Dailana had been about to pass them by, her hum still wending its off-key way through something that would have _almost_ have been recognizable as a Chantry hymn to someone _extremely_ familiar with religious music, when a Darkspawn archer sent an arrow through her hair.

The ensuing chaos, though not as frighteningly _lethal,_ made for a short, dirty fight.

When the two dwarves had proven to be merchants, Dailana had perked up immediately, badgering them mercilessly until the older dwarf promised to follow them and camp with them each night. Happier with the prospect of a permanent shopping experience at her beck and call, Dailana had taken them right out of Lothering, up the Highway, and as far as they could go before the sun set in a blaze of orange and purple glory.

She watched her companions from afar. She had seen Dailana attempt sleep, only to awaken and pick another fight with the fool, though the witch was too far away to hear the words of the argument. After that, the blue-eyed Warden had begun to restlessly prowl the camp, speaking to anyone and everyone, including her Dog. Resigned, Morrigan awaited her turn.

As predicted, it was mere minutes before Dailana intruded upon her side of the camp. "What do you want?" she said, wishing to make it clear that the presence of the frustrating, confusing, and _maddening_ woman was not wanted, _certainly_ not for idle conversation.

Dailana shrugged, her finger twirling in her hair, eyes empty and mind oblivious to nuance. "I just, like, wanted to talk, ya know?" Flopping gracefully onto the ground next to Morrigan's smaller fire, she lowered her hand and lifted her chin, gaze directed upwards. "I love the stars, ya know?"

Startled at the pablum attempt at conversation, Morrigan merely replied with, "Ah?" The thoughts echoed through her head, unspoken: _I am busy crafting poultices_ \- which was true - _and I have no interest in a conversation with you_ \- also true _._ She left both thoughts unspoken, a reluctant curiosity her only ally and defense from Dailana's peculiar brand of _elocution._

"My brother and I would stare at the stars for hours. Ya know, when we were, like, totally radically adorable little kids and all that." She kept looking at the stars. Her face held a wistful expression, her eyes neither empty nor filled with vituperation. They were merely... _sad._ "Um, do you think that somewhere in this totally bogus war and this radically gnarly world, he's looking up there and, ya know, thinking of me?"

Bereft of irritation and unable to maintain her indifference, Morrigan replied, in a far gentler tone than she would have thought necessary with Dailana only a few seconds before, "I cannot say. He may be inside, or asleep, or..." She glanced at the woman's face, seeing once again that abnormally _normal_ expression of wistful sorrow. "I... I _suppose_ it could, in a very narrow sense of the word, be _possible_ , yes," she finally managed to get out.

Dailana's mouth curved into a gentle smile. "Thanks. It's like, totally awesome to hear someone... _say_ it, ya know." She finally looked over at Morrigan. "Your eyes are, like, awesomely amazing."

Again taken aback by the flitting butterfly thoughts of the Warden, Morrigan could only blink and say, "Thank you. 'Tis a most kind thing to say."

The other woman shrugged, rising to her feet. Morrigan had noted that she did not seem to be able to stay in the same location for more than a minute or two, and took this as a hopeful sign that she would be soon moving on.

Except that, unaccountably, she suddenly didn't _want_ her to move on. And that felt _extremely_ odd. Trying to cover up her confusion, she said, "Ah, are you leaving me already? _Such_ a pity." She shrugged her shoulders in seeming indifference. "'Twas a pleasure to speak with you, if only for a while."

Stretching hugely, Dailana staggered slightly at the end of the stretch, then walked a few more steps towards Morrigan, who watched her approach with a quirked eyebrow. "Morrigan?"

The witch blinked in surprise. To her recollection, that was the first time the Warden had called her by her name. "Dailana?" she replied cautiously in kind, not sure what the woman actually expected of her.

Dailana held out a small package. "Here. It's, like, a totally bitchin' gnarly keen necklace from... from, ya know, home. Ummm, it matches your eyes, ya know? I just want you to, like, totally have it." She shrugged. "It _really_ doesn't go with my, like, keen blue gaze or awesome flaxen locks, ya know?"

Rendered speechless, Morrigan slowly reached out and took the package, opening it with hands that would have trembled had Flemeth not ensured that such weaknesses were eschewed years before. Within was nestled a beautiful necklace of tiger eye and carnelian set in gold, of the precise perfect length to rest on Morrigan's chest for all to see.

She sat silent for a few moments, trying to understand the _emotions_ that swept through her. In a few seconds she had reined them it, the master of her own self once more. Glancing up at Dailana's face, she said, "'Tis a fine gift. You have my thanks."

Dailana shrugged, already twirling a lock of hair absently. "What _ever._ Bee tee _em_ , you people need to, like, totally chillax and take a chill pill, ya know?"

Morrigan's mouth twitched. "I shall endeavor to keep that in mind."

"See that you totally do, ya know?" She stretched one final time, then turned back to the main camp. "Well, thanks for the talk. Um, it... it helped, ya know?" She smiled. "I... I just wanted to, like, thank you for coming along, and all that. Um, I know it probably wasn't, like, _all_ your mother."

Morrigan considered her words. "No," she said quietly. "I want to see mountains. I wish to witness the ocean and step into its waters. I want to experience a city rather than see it in my mind." She looked up. "I want to live my own life."

Dailana's eyes met hers, and Morrigan felt pulled into a gaze as fully deep as the oceans she wished to explore. But then Alsitair's boisterous laugh echoed over the camp, and suddenly the blue-eyed Warden switched modes, becoming the empty vapid idiot once again. "Huh. Don't we all, like, do that anyway?" She yawned hugely, holding a delicate hand over her mouth, then declared, "Well, time to hit the sack of awesome sleepitude. Night!" She started to walk away, waving over her shoulder in a vague farewell.

Morrigan blurted, "What did you say to him?" Only slightly mortified that she had revealed her curiosity in such a blatant manner, she added (since it _was_ Dailana, after all), "To the qunari, I mean. To ensure that he would accompany us."

The Warden stopped in her tracks, head cocked, considering, then turned around and went back to Morrigan. Crouching with a peculiar feline grace, her eyes now alight with a twinkle of humor, she whispered, "I told him there would be, like, totally radical awesome scrumptious cake." She giggled as she stood up again. "It got him moving, didn't it?"

Morrigan laughed, the sound dancing over the air. "I suppose it did."

The Warden left Morrigan for true now, wending her way back to her bedroll, where she collapsed with an artless grace. Morrigan watched her still form for a while, golden eyes pensive in the light of the fire, hand tight around the gift of gold and gems. _Weakness..._

Rapidly blinking away the unfamiliar sensation behind her eyes, Morrigan put the necklace around her neck, wishing she had a mirror to gauge the effect. Somehow, though, she found herself trusting Dailana's authority in the matter. And, perhaps, in others as well.

 

 

 

 

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 _Next up:_ Redcliffe madness!


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